


The Triple B (Bittle's Bookshop & Bakery)

by allthingspieandhockey (SunMonTue)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: All pairings other than Zimbits are just mentioned in passing - all established relationships, Holster is in a wheelchair, M/M, very light reference to drug use (like blink and you will miss it)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24197986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunMonTue/pseuds/allthingspieandhockey
Summary: A Notting Hill AU: Bitty has a small bookshop/bakery into which NHL player Jack Zimmermann walks...
Relationships: Adam "Holster" Birkholtz/Justin "Ransom" Oluransi, Chris "Chowder" Chow/Caitlin Farmer, Derek "Nursey" Nurse/William "Dex" Poindexter, Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann, Larissa "Lardo" Duan/Shitty Knight
Comments: 6
Kudos: 178





	The Triple B (Bittle's Bookshop & Bakery)

**Author's Note:**

> ZimBits AU based on the film Notting Hill. Bitty owns a Bakery/Bookstore, Jack is an NHL player. You don’t need to have seen the movie for this to make sense.  
> Originally posted on my tumblr in 2016. I'm trying to move them all onto AO3.

Bitty bought the bookstore with an inheritance left by his MooMaw. It does nothing to ease his feeling of loss, but every time he steps inside he is overcome by a feeling of rightness. That she would somehow approve of his bakery-bookshop combination. He hadn’t wanted to get rid of the books, and customers come in to relax and start reading something with their coffee and pie. They often walk out with a book as well as more pie. It won’t ever make him rich, but it does make him happy. 

He has his regulars, and then he has the people that work with him, and then he has the tourists that inundate the area every spring, summer and fall. So he gets by and makes enough to pay the mortgage on his little two-bedroom apartment a few blocks over, and he doesn’t feel like his life is lacking anything. Sometimes he wonders what it might be like to have someone to share everything with, but he’s had a couple of disastrous relationships and actually had to share everything, so he’s happy. Content.

It’s a normal Wednesday morning, although winter, so shorter opening hours for the Triple B (Bitty’s Bakery and Books), but Bitty always starts early, gets the baking going because the locals and regulars are what keep him going over winter and he’d hate to disappoint them. They close at 2.30pm though, and Bitty likes the sleep-lazy feeling of the winter season. He’s also glad he works in a hot kitchen and he doesn’t have to drive on ice covered roads - walking the two blocks is more than enough to ruin his dignity.

Winter also means he doesn’t need to start at 4.30am, instead 6am, which is far more respectable, or so his friends tell him. He slips into the bakery, starts his routine automatically. Ginger loaves, slow baked at a lower heat. Almond croissants will go into another oven. He swings his arms and stretches them, warming them up in preparation for all the dough rolling he’s going to do, put on his favorite music and falls into his zone.

He knows Chowder turns up around 7.30am, starts the coffee machine and sets it all up, flicking the lights on the turning the sign to open. That’s Bitty’s internal alarm to pull the first batch of muffins from the oven, and he does so in time to take the still warm and steaming pile out to the front counter ready for Barbara, the florist three shops down, who always buys coffee and muffins for her staff every morning.

The morning rush in winter is easy, and Bitty greets everyone in between baking, trusts Chowder with his wide smile and epic coffee making skills. They joke about Chowder one day opening a shop across the road and calling it Triple C, Chowder’s Coffee and Chocolate, because it’s something else that Chowder excels in, is making delicate pieces of art out of chocolate.

Around 11am Bitty stops baking and cleans up. They have a reciprocal arrangement with the sandwich place to sell their sandwiches, and they sell Bitty’s pies, cakes and slices. He takes over the counter and instructs Chowder to go and have a break, which usually involves him walking to the florist with a coffee for Farmer. It’s the perfect time because there’s usually a lull before the lunch rush starts just before twelve.

11.10 though Bitty hears the bell ring and he looks up from the ordering sheet and does a double take. Tall. Tall tall tall. Well, probably not _that_ tall, but silhouetted against the glass, broad shoulders, the man looks large and Bitty nervously fumbles for his phone, just in case. The guy moves forward, pushes the hoodie back from his head and the light adjusts enough that Bitty can see dark brown hair, gorgeous jawline, hooded eyes that Bitty can’t quite catch.

“Hi, welcome to Triple B. What can I help you with?”

“Um. I was actually interested in looking at the books?”

“Of course, just go on ahead and browse. There’s chairs through there that you can sit and make yourself comfortable. Just shout out if you need help. Everything is organised into subject areas.”

“Thanks.”

Bitty kind of forgets he’s there, he’s so quiet; other customers arrive and Chowder comes back from break. Together they work through the lunchtime rush and then everything starts to wind down. Dex turns up to help with closing up and cleaning the shop and Bitty farewells them before going to do his final walk-around to double-check all the locks.

“Um, sorry - “

Bitty doesn’t know how high he jumps but he feels like his skin has relocated to the ceiling.

“Good Lord! You scared the beejesus outta me!”

“Sorry.”

Bitty sucks in a large breath and lets it out slowly. It’s the same man as before, somehow looking even _more_ embarrassed.

“It’s okay, let’s just both be glad I wasn’t holding my hot chocolate. I usually am when I do the final lock up.” He wants to add that people aren’t usually hiding in the nooks and crannies of his little book shop but keeps it to himself.

“I’m sorry, I just started reading and… lost track of time.”

“That’s… not the first time that’s happened. It’s okay. Did you want to buy it or come back tomorrow and finish reading it?”

“I’ll buy it. Thanks.”

Bitty has already cashed up and sent the banking with Dex to do, so the crisp $100 note that gets handed to him is excessive for the $15 second hand book on… _The Indian Today: The Past and Future of the First American_. 

“I’m really sorry, but do you have anything smaller? We don’t hold any cash on the premises after we lock up.”

“Oh, sorry. I think I might have a twenty…”

Fortunately he _does_ have a twenty, scrunched up at the bottom of his wallet and Bitty pulls out his own wallet, although he’s pretty sure all he has in there is loose change. Upon closer inspection he doesn’t have even that, so he grabs a business card and writes on the back ‘Owed $5 in change’ and asks if that’s alright, because it’s really the best he can do right now.

“Just gives me an excuse to come back tomorrow.”

Bitty smiles politely, feeling like he’s maybe being teased a little, but follows the other man out of his shop; turning off lights and locking up.

… … …

The next morning starts in much the same way, and he hears the same voice he had the conversation he had with last night and Bitty smiles a little more genuinely. Of course Dex is pointing out that they actually give out gift vouchers an don’t just write on the back of cards, so Bitty just quickly explains, which is enough to mollify Dex into serving him with a smile. The smile goes wider when the man shoves the change from his hundred dollar into the tip jar and Bitty’s mouth is open to protest but - 

“I finished that book last night. I’m just… Is it alright is I take my coffee and muffin through there?”

“Of course,” Bitty says. “That’s kind of the, thing we’re going for…”

Dex is waiting for him to be out of earshot before he turns to Bitty and flails his arms wordlessly. Bitty knows this routine, waits a minute or two and takes over serving their customers while Dex calms down. The last time he’d seen him this flustered though it had been when Derek Nurse had asked him out, and that was six months ago.

“That… that is _Jack Zimmermann_!”

“Am I meant to know who that is?” Bitty asks, and Dex makes a sad quiet wailing sound accompanied with more hand flailing.

“The _hockey player_ ,” Dex hisses and _Oh!_ Realization and recognition flood through him and he nods, because yes, okay, now that he imagines the other man hot and sweaty and wearing his hockey uniform there could be no mistake.

“We just treat him like any other customer,” Bitty says.

“I customer that leaves $90 tips in our tip jar…” Dex adds, and Bitty nods. Realizes that it’s probably a good thing Mr. Zimmermann came in yesterday while Chowder was on a break, because that wouldn’t have resulted in the same quiet reading time that Jack Zimmermann seems to be enjoying.

He goes looking for him five minutes before he’s about to cash up, asks if he wants to buy another book, or whether he’ll just come back and read it tomorrow. Again he buys the book, gets a takeaway coffee and the last apricot and cream cheese muffin, and leaves the change in the tip jar. Bitty is at least glad that Chowder and Dex will make even more this week than usual; given the contents of the tip jar just from today.

… … …

Friday morning is slightly different, Jack Zimmermann arrives in a _suit_ , and it’s just a lucky fluke that Bitty is out at the counter rather than out the back baking when it’s still so early. The high pitched _meep_ sounds coming from Chowder indicate that he’s had no trouble recognizing one of his idols and might not actually be in any fit state to serve him.

“Important day today?” Bitty asks and while he can _definitely_ pull off a suit Bitty thinks he prefers the more comfortable looking Jack Zimmermann that had been here in jeans and sweater the last two days.

“Yeah. A couple of meetings. Um.”

“What can I get for you?”

He shoves the coffee order in Chowder’s general direction, which fortunately galvanizes him into action and sets to putting the croissants and muffins in bags. He can hear himself chattering away, which makes him cringe inwardly, but Jack Zimmermann seems to pay paying attention to every word. Bitty hands him everything in a paper bag and tells him he hopes he has a good day.

“My names Jack, by the way. I’ll be, um, back tomorrow. Thanks.”

“I… I’ll look forward to it,” Bitty says, feeling like he’s missing something.

“His name is Eric, and I’m Chris,” Chowder says, grinning brightly and Bitty looks, and Jack Zimmermann is looking at him rather intently.

“Nice to meet you Eric. And you Chris.”

Then he’s leaving and Chowder is making a high pitched squealing and Bitty feels like he’s maybe missing something.

… … …

Saturday is also market day, but it’s always rewarded with two days off over winter. Bitty gets up extra early and starts baking at 4am. Both Dex and Chowder will be in early as well, one will man the market and the other will stay in the shop. Bitty is grateful that their respective boyfriend and girlfriends are also in jobs which have slightly weird hours.

8am Jack Zimmermann walk through the door, greets Chris by name and Bitty watches them have a short conversation while Chowder makes his coffee and plates up a muffin. He still puts all the change from his note into the tip jar, but at least it’s a twenty this time and not a hundred.

The day is too busy for Bitty to sit around and wonder why Jack Zimmermann is in town, let alone frequenting his little shop. He does seem more relaxed today though, talking to people when they approach him, signing autographs, but mostly just sitting quietly and reading. He’s onto his third book this week.

On Saturdays they close as soon as they run out of food, which today, at only 11am, seems earlier than usual and Bitty wonders if word got around that Jack Zimmermann was in his book shop, encouraging people to come in. It seems likely. Dex returns from the market empty handed, having sold everything and Bitty sets about doing the weekly accounts.

Chowder and Dex know the routine. They flip the sign to closed and set about doing the major tidy up and clean up of the shop. They then go and start doing the prep work for the following week, peeling and stoning fruit, putting it on to stew, drying other pieces of fruit for putting in muffins, Chowder tempering chocolate and making flowers out of it for decoration. 

It’s much quieter, but Bitty is aware that Jack Zimmermann is still sitting and reading quietly not very far away. Once he finishes up, he goes and walks around the book shop part and checks for empty cups and plates, something Chowder and Dex often forget to do, quietly informs Jack that they’ll be locking up in the next half-hour.

“Ah, I actually, wanted to ask if you were doing anything tonight? Would you like to, um, get dinner with me?”

“I…” Bitty blinks. “I would love to. That would be great. Oh. No. I… it’s my best friends birthday. I’m… oh, I really can’t get out of it. We’re meant to be having dinner.”

“Okay, that’s fine.”

“No, I’m sure -”

“No, I mean, if it’s fine with you, I’ll be your date.”

“You… you’ll be my date? To my best friends’ birthday party?”

“If it’s alright?”

“I’m sure it’s alright…” Bitty says, and wonders if he should warm his friends that he’s bringing a date. That will be enough of a shock as it is without adding the fact that his date is _Jack Zimmermann_. Who is apparently happy to have a date with another man.

… … …

They arrange to meet outside the bakery and walk, Bitty has got some brownies he had made that morning put aside for tonight (although he refuses to make pot brownie in his commercial kitchen, even if it _is_ Shitty’s birthday). Bitty explains that Ransom and Holster are hosting, and Shitty may or may-not be arriving with Lardo. Probably will be as they’re currently living together, but Shitty also lives with Bitty sometimes, when Lardo and Shitty need space from one another. 

Jack seems content to listen to him talk, his smile soft as he listens and Bitty wonders when he last went on a date. He could probably find out by searching online and that thought makes him sad on Jack’s behalf. He presses the buzzer for Holster and Ransom’s house, can hear them scrabbling around inside and then Ransom is throwing the door open with a puff of smoke accompanying him.

“Hi, sorry bro, come on in. Food crisis!” Ransom declares, running back toward the kitchen and Bitty closes the door, gives Jack a slightly apologetic look. There’s first dates and then there’s… whatever this is going to be. A train wreck probably.

“Hi, sorry guinea fowl is proving more complicated than expected!” Holster calls from the lounge.

“He’s trying to cook _guinea fowl_?” Bitty asks Holster, and Holster is laughing, although stops abruptly when he sees Jack.

“Dude, has anyone ever told you you’re the spitting image of -”

“Adam, this is Jack.”

“Right…” Holster says, just looking between them and Bitty knows he’s going to get interrogated the next time they’re alone.

“Nice to meet you man.”

“Right, crisis averted.”

“Ransom, come and meet _Jack_ ,” Holster says, and Ransom steps forward, wide welcoming smile on his face hand out stretched to shake Jack’s.

“So sorry, so nice to meet you Jack,” Ransom starts, before he freezes

“ _Zimmermann_.” Ransom’s eyes shoot to Bitty’s. “Have some wine.” The door bell rings again and Ransom declares he’ll answer it, giving Bitty a very pointed look that makes him roll his eyes. He can hear Shitty at the door, asks Jack if he’d like red or white, Ransom is saying something about Bitty bringing a date and then;

“Hi guys! Oh, holy _fuck_.”

The look of abject adoration of Shitty’s face is one to behold and Bitty feels he should maybe have warned Jack, except… this is really amusing and even if he had been prepared, it would never have been enough. Shitty starts telling Jack how wonderful he thinks he is, before trailing off and declaring that he feels that they could be best friends.

“Hey, I thought I was your best friend!” Bitty interjects and Shitty grins.

“Marry Bitty, then you can be my best-friend-in-law.”

Jack just stammers a bit and Bitty tells him to ignore his friends. The door bell rings again and Ransom declares that it must be Lardo. Lardo has no idea who Jack is, and Bitty can tell it’s killing Shitty to not keep flailing and yelling about who they’re about to have dinner with, except everyone calms down and everything returns to relative normality. 

Conversation flows, and Jack is quiet but seems genuinely happy to be part of the festivities. They eat too much food, Ransom always cooks too much, because he usually ends up ruining one or two dishes. Not tonight though, although while the guinea fowl is a little crispy it is still edible. They all help do the dishes and then Ransom passes around the brownie, leaving one piece on the plate. Bitty frowns before realizing that he usually packs two extra pieces, for whoever is hosting to have the following day, except with Jack here there is only one piece left over. Ransom seems to eye it for a second.

“Having you here Jack firmly establishes what I’ve long suspected that we really are the most desperate lot of underachievers,” Ransom says.

“Hey!” Bitty interjects.

“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing! In fact I think it’s something we should take pride in! I’m going to give the last brownie, as a prize, to the saddest act here.”

“That’s not exactly a compelling prize,” Bitty says. 

“Well it’s obviously me isn’t it,” Shitty states. “I’m stuck practicing law in my families firm, forced to keep my beautiful flow short and respectable.”

“That’s pathetic,” Lardo states, sniffing. “I work in a gallery and have to listen to pretentious people talk about what they think is or isn’t art, and then try and barter the cost of art pieces. Like it’s _negotiable_. And to top it all off I am paid next to nothing and am somehow expected to look like I’ve just walked off the catwalk.”

“And most of his limbs work. While, I’m stuck here in a house full of ramps, and to add insult to injury, our adoption application got turned down. _Again_.”

The table goes silent at that and Bitty just wants to go and give Holster a hug, because it sucks. They’ve been trying for over two years to adopt.

“So surely that gets me the last piece of brownie…” Holster says, and Ransom shakes his head, eyes narrowing playfully in Bitty’s direction and he groans.

“Well, I don’t know. Look at Bitty. Very unsuccessful at relationships, talks to his ovens like they’re people, and absolutely certain to never hear from Jack again after tonight once he learns why his nickname is Bitty…”

Everyone laughs and Bitty flushes, the wine he’s been drinking not helping and he hides his face in his hands.

“Thanks. Thank you very much. Fantastic, so, does that mean I win back my own brownie? Right?” Bitty asks, reaching for it, because after that some chocolate and sugar would go down great.

“Well wait, what about me?” Jack asks. 

Everyone stops to look at Jack and Ransom raises an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry. You think you deserve the brownie?”

“Well, a shot at it at least…” Jack says, suddenly looking nervous.

“You realize you have to prove it, this is some seriously good brownie.”

“The best,” Shitty adds. Jack nods, seems to steel himself.

“I feel like I’ve been on a diet my entire life. The media seem to think they own me, and my private life,” Jack says, meeting Bitty’s gaze, and Bitty doesn’t know whether it’s a warning or not. “I’ve had to have two operations to enable to keep playing, followed by months of physiotherapy. And I’ve never had a relationship worth mentioning because I’m in the closet.”

Again silence reigns and before Ransom shakes his head.

“Nice try dude, but no go.”

“Yeah, Bitty, you get the brownie.”

Bitty rolls his eyes but accepts it anyway and the evening starts to wind down. They decide to leave first, despite the fact that Bitty doesn’t have to get up ridiculously early he has been awake for a long time, is more than ready to drop into bed and sleep. Everyone gathers to say goodbye and Jack seems surprised when everyone hugs him. Bitty tries to ignore the sly looks, because even if he were wide awake, he doesn’t know what he would do if Jack made a move on him. 

The door closes and they’ve only walked three or four steps when excited screams come from Ransom and Holster’s house and Bitty shakes his head while Jack just laughs.

“Sorry, they always do that when I leave. Very annoying.”

Jack laughs again.

“So, Bitty huh?”

“My last name is Bittle. It’s just… a nickname.”

“Why is he in a wheelchair?”

“An accident, about 18 months ago,” Bitty says, not really wanting to think about the days when they weren’t sure is Holster would actually live.

They walk in companionable quiet, angling around for a nearby park and Bitty wonders if he should invite Jack back to his apartment. He both does and doesn’t want to.

“Would you like to come back to my place?”

“Too complicated,” Jack says, and Bitty realizes that it’s neither a yes or no. He wonders if he really wants to go there with a self-proclaimed closeted NHL star. Then Jack is kissing him, lips cold from the winter air, and it takes Bitty completely by surprise, especially given the the fact he was just told that it would be too complicated.

“Busy tomorrow?” Jack asks.

“No. The shop is closed. It’s my day off.”

… … …

The next day they go out to lunch, and conversation is easy. It drags out until they’re choosing somewhere for dinner and Bitty ignores his phone and the numerous messages he’s getting from all his friends. He tries not to get pissed off when listening to some know-it-all’s talk about hockey, well Jack specifically, and Bitty wants to go and say something but instead finds himself being gently persuaded away and onto the street by an amused Jack.

“What am I doing with you?”

“I don’t know I’m afraid,” Bitty says, glad that Jack seems to be as clueless as he is.

“I don’t know either. But I’ve never had anyone want to stick up for me before. Well anyone that wasn’t my parents,” Jack says, and Bitty feels a fierce fire in himself to defend Jack to _everyone_. “Do you want to come up?”

“There seem to be a lot of reasons why I shouldn’t,” Bitty says, taken aback by the abrupt question, and he’s certain that Jack would maybe be kissing him right now if they weren’t standing right in front of the hotel entrance way.

“There are lots of reasons,” Jack repeats, looking sad. “Do you want to come up?”

Bitty bites his lip and then nods, stomach flipping.

“Give me five minutes?”

Of course it doesn’t go to plan. When Bitty gets up there Jack is shut off, a different person, tells Bitty he has to leave. Then a guy Bitty recognizes but can’t recall the name of comes out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel. Bitty makes his excuses and flees, glad he’s not become heavily invested despite feeling like he could maybe have had the best thing in his life.

… … …

Even though it was only a few days, and less than twenty-four hours in Jack’s immediate company, Bitty wonders how Jack is doing. He doesn’t even know why Jack was in town, if he’s still in town or… what exactly. Fortunately he has good friends that pick up on his downward sinking mood and immediately try and rally him.

“Come on, open up. This is me. Shitty. You can tell me…”

Bitty does, explains how he can with out even knowing what he’s trying to explain, because he really can’t put it into words. Ransom and Holster start bombarding him with possible dates, some of which are truly horrendous, one of which Bitty would actually like; in any other circumstance except the one he currently finds himself. A few weeks pass though, and Bitty isn’t really paying attention when he goes to close up and finds Jack Zimmermann sitting in the far corner, hoodie pulled up, glasses on, looking like he really doesn’t want to be noticed, and failing miserably while he’s at it.

“I’m sorry, I… I can go.”

“Jack… are you okay?”

“I… _no_.”

Bitty hasn’t been around a panic attack in a long time, but he’s familiar enough with them to recognize the potential signs. He’s glad that the shop is already closed. He calls out to Chowder and Dex, asks them to lock up and take the banking, before sliding to sit down beside Jack, close enough for him to reach out and touch if he needs to.

“Breathe in with me,” Bitty instructs, taking in a deep breath while counting to four, then; “Out, five, six, seven, eight.”

He repeats it, just quietly saying the words over, his and Jack’s breathing the only immediate noise, the sound from the street sounding muffled. He doesn’t know how long they sit there, but Bitty would sit there for as long as it takes.

“Thank you,” Jack says, his voice rough and Bitty hums. “I… I’m sorry. About last time I was here. I’m not. I wasn’t with him, but…”

“You don’t need to explain. You don’t own anything to me.”

“I want to. You’ll hear it all in the news anyway.”

“If you want to tell me, then… okay.”

Bitty sits and listens, feels Jack’s leg twitch nervously as he talks. The other man had been Kent Parson, a long time friend of Jack’s. Who came out today. The first out gay NHL player. Jack knows the press are going to ask him, bombard him, the next time he appears, and he’s here because it’s close enough to Providence to be convenient, but also quiet enough for Jack to hide.

Bitty isn’t sure what to do really, so he invites Jack back to his apartment, talks to him about inconsequential things to hopefully keep him distracted. He cooks dinner, setting easy tasks for Jack to help. In amongst it all Jack apologizes again and Bitty just nods, because it is what it is, and he realizes now that Jack probably wasn’t in a relationship with Kent, but he won’t go throwing himself at Jack.

He makes up the guest room, leaves a spare key out for Jack, explaining that he will be out of the house at 4am to start baking, but that Jack is more than welcome to stay. When Jack asks if he can come to the bakery Bitty is surprised, but agrees. He goes to bed, feeling restless. Every creak has him tossing and he startles when he sees Jack standing in his bedroom door.

“Are you okay?” Bitty asks.

“No. Do you mind… I just… um.”

“Come lie with me,” Bitty invites, scooting back from the side so Jack can slide into bed beside him. “Do you want me to hold you?” Bitty asks.

“Please,” Jack replies, voice breaking.

Bitty wraps an arm around Jack, plasters his chest against Jack’s back and tries to let his breathing even out and fall asleep.

… … …

He has to climb over Jack when his alarm goes off, feels his warm hand trail down his leg before Bitty slips free of the blankets. He always showers before heading into the bakery, and again in the afternoons, so he sets about his usual routine, although the knowledge that Jack is still asleep in his bed is hard to ignore.

“Morning,” Jack greets, eyes following him intently when he returns to his bedroom from the shower. “Thank you… for, well, everything.”

“It’s fine. Did you still want to come with me?”

Jack nods, and Bitty would offer him a change of clothes, except he knows nothing he has would likely fit. They set off for the bakery and instead of cataloging everything inside his head he talks aloud, telling Jack what he will bake first and why.

“I really like your apple and blueberry muffins.”

“That because you haven’t tried my pie.”

Jack smiles a little and shrugs, and Bitty reaches for his keys, unlocks the door before locking it behind them. Jack seems content to just watch while Bitty sets about turning all the ovens on to the right temperatures, pulling containers of filling he prepared earlier, ties on his apron and hat. He’s on automatic. He wants to ask questions, wants to know why Jack isn’t in Providence because _surely_ he has training and games that he should be at, rather than making Bitty feel self-conscious in his own kitchen.

They make small talk while Bitty bakes, talk about art, something that Jack has apparently noted in both the bookshop and his apartment, that they like the same artist. Bitty holds back that the artist he’s talking about is in fact Lardo. After a while Jack seems content to let Bitty work in silence, and when Jack’s phone starts ringing at 6am he excuses himself to go and answer it, tries to block out the angry tone of voice, decides to turn his music on so that Jack has a modicum of privacy. 

Jack comes back into the kitchen and Bitty passes him a coffee. It’s only instant, but Jack accepts it silently, takes a small sip before putting it back cause Jack moves toward him slowly, as if he’s giving Bitty a chance to say… _anything_. The kiss is harder, an edge of desperation and he feels Jack’s hands, cupping his face before one is sliding down his back, holding him close. The kiss softens, and Bitty’s face is being peppered with tiny-soft butterfly kisses and he never wants it to end, but he feels Jack pull away and opens his eyes.

“I have to go. Thank you again.”

“Uh.”

Jack kisses him again and then he’s gone. Bitty doesn’t have a chance to say anything in reply, realizes they haven’t even exchanged numbers, and has no idea if he will see Jack again, or if he even wants to.

… … …

It’s hard to ignore the news, he sees the fronts of the newspapers, the media maelstrom surrounding Kent Parson’s coming out and it’s the main topic of conversation among his friends. They’re all in support, but Bitty knows it’s likely not the case in wider NHL circles. He desperately wants to know how Jack is faring but has no way of contacting him.

Then one day Shitty is slapping a newspaper down in front of him and Jack is the now third player to come out, the second and fourth ones people Bitty only vaguely recognizes from other teams. 

“It’s an avalanche. Well, maybe not an avalanche, but a snowball. And it’s getting bigger.”

It’s only March, and Bitty wonders about the timing, if it was planned before playoffs started so that there would be something to take people’s mind off the fact that nearly every NHL team now has an out player. By the end of the week some teams have _two_ players, and more retired players have come out and Bitty wonders about the catalyst that has started it all. 

Jack doesn’t make any effort to contact him and Bitty doesn’t even know how he feels about it. He knows Jack has to be busy. The weeks pass and the Providence Falconers make the finals. Shitty presents them with tickets to go and Bitty just shakes his head.

“If he wanted to see me, he would have… said something by now,” Bitty says and Shitty snorts.

“He’s a pretty one track guy, and right now, he probably feels like he has something to prove to the world. I just… won’t you ever wonder what could have been?”

“Every day, but that doesn’t mean I should stop living,” Bitty retorts.

“Then come to the final with us, you know we would be going anyway. And these are no guarantee that you’ll see him.”

Bitty sighs, because _yes_ , he’s aware that all his friends are a bit hockey mad, and that they’ve taken to supporting the Falconers to heart. He agrees to go, wonders about his own sanity at the decision. He really wants to see Jack, if only to reassure himself that Jack is doing fine. He supposes anyone looking from the outside would see a strong captain, determined to win the Stanley Cup again. Bitty remembers the quieter panic-stricken Jack who had wanted to be held.

The evening of the game they’re running late, and Bitty doesn’t know if they’ve ever run on time before, so it shouldn’t be surprising. Ransom is driving, with Holster in the passenger seat. Bitty, Shitty and Lardo fit in the back. Just. It’s a half hour drive to Providence, if the traffic is good, but Bitty suspects that it’s not going to be an easy trip.

He’s right, the traffic is shocking, but at least finding a park is relatively straight forward. At least it is once Shitty gets out and yells at a couple for parking in a wheelchair accessible park when their car clearly does not have any sign. Holster is laughing and gives Shitty a fist-bump as he helps settle him into his chair and then they’re running toward the entrance. 

They get to their seats with only minutes to go before puck drop and Bitty’s heart is racing. They’re right up against the glass, one spot with the chairs taken out to allow for Holster’s wheelchair, and Bitty had forgotten how loud games could be. When the teams come out Bitty tracks Jack with his eyes, realizing this is the first time he’s seen Jack in his uniform and it’s different again from the Jack he’s seen in a suit, or in jeans and hoodie.

It’s the sixth game, and Bitty knows if the Falconers win this then it’s over; they’ll be the next Stanley Cup Champions. He finds he doesn’t really pay much attention to the game itself; although watching Jack means he gets to see the first goal scored and Bitty feels the others jump up around him, screaming and Bitty sees the moment that Jack sees him. The _smile_ that appears could, and probably will, be put down to the fact that Jack just scored; but Bitty is certain the smile is for him.

Several minutes later the Falconers score another goal, one Jack assists with, and again Jack finds Bitty in the crowd and smiles. This time his friends notice and Shitty is wolf whistling, almost elbowing Bitty in the face and Bitty smiles back. The atmosphere just ramps up after that and Bitty enjoys himself, although admits to himself he’s enjoying the fact that Jack looked at him even more.

“You beautiful fucking Adonis!” Shitty screams, and it’s a hat trick, and Bitty is jumping and screaming along with everyone else, and then Jack is… pointing at him? It’s fast, Bitty wonders if he’s imagined it, but then it’s being replayed and it actually looks more like Jack is blowing a kiss and _oh_ …

“I hope you’re not regretting coming now,” Shitty yells and Bitty’s cheeks are hurting from smiling so much.

The game continues though, the other team rallying and closing the gap to 5-2, but then it’s over, confetti is raining down and celebratory music is blaring and Bitty sits down in shock. People are pouring onto the ice, there are cameras everywhere and then Jack is in front of him, the glass between them and the look on his face is ecstatic, but Bitty can tell he might be a little anxious; so Bitty does the best he can in in the circumstances and blows a kiss back.

… … …

It’s a whirlwind of activity, a security guard turns up and asks them to wait, which they usually have to do anyway, pushing through normal crowds with a wheelchair can be difficult, the crowds tonight make it an even more daunting task. Then a couple walk up to them, and they’re smiling and Shitty is acting like he knows them, and then;

“You must be Eric. Jack has told us so much about you.”

“I - he has? I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your names in all the noise.”

“I’m Alicia Zimmermann, and this is my husband Bob.”

“Oh. Jack’s… parents?”

“That’s right.”

“Oh Good Lord,” Bitty says under his breath, smile bright. He has no idea what to say further, but graciously shakes their hands and wonders what Jack has told them about him. Hopefully good things considering the way they seem to be smiling at him at least. They sit around talking, waiting for Jack presumably, and he has no idea how long they’re meant to wait. The team is still on the ice, a lot of people haven’t even made a move to leave and Bitty is incredibly glad that he had the forethought to close the shop tomorrow.

And then Jack is there, clambering awkwardly in his skates and Bitty is being kissed again, and Jack is sweaty, wet from champagne, and it’s the best kiss Bitty has ever experienced. 

“The whole team is going out to celebrate, with all our family and friends as well, so I was wondering if you’d like to come with me?” Jack asks, then looks over at everyone else. “You’re all welcome to come.”

“Well, who could ignore such a gracious invitation,” Alicia says, the look on her face sardonic and all of Bitty’s friends are grinning. “How about we meet you there. Is it the usual place?”

Jack nods, and then looks back at Bitty.

“I didn’t know how to call, having behaved so… badly. Just… leaving. _Twice._ I was planning to come and see you when the season finished. I… would really like to spend more time with you. Um. Like a lot more time.”

“I think I can live with that,” Bitty says.

… … …

EPILOGUE

Bitty teases Jack about having his parents at their first date and Jack teases back that Bitty had all his friends at their first _first_ date. Their relationship isn’t normal - neither of them have usual jobs, and Bitty gets used to Jack slipping into bed at odd hours of the night, and Jack gets used to Bitty slipping out in odd hours of the morning. They deal with everything though, both aware that they will both have to put in mutual effort to make the relationship successful.

Their first official date is to the wedding of Kent Parson to his long-term boyfriend, where Jack is the best man. Select press is in attendance by invitation, and when Kent Parson pulls Bitty onto the dance floor and tells him that he makes Jack very happy, that Kent _can tell_ , Bitty can’t help the smile on his face. He replies that he intends to make Jack happy for a long time and Kent seems inordinately pleased to hear it.


End file.
